I'm sorry! I posted the wrong chapter last time: I posted this one before the one that came before it. Chapter seventeen is now the correct chapter, and this is the one that was earlier chapter seventeen. So, if you were a little confused about what wasn't matching up, that's why!

...

Annie is mad at me again. I guess I should have known, leaving her at the ceremony last night without an explanation. Of course, I spent the night at another white slip address, and didn't see her again until this afternoon.

She isn't talking to me.

So much for yesterday. I thought she understood. It will pass, though, I am sure. After all, we are back on the train for district four in an hour. I will have lots of time to explain things. To explain the truth. And we will have another year away from the Capitol's prying eyes.

Our last year.

No. I force the word onto myself. No. I can't allow myself to believe that. I will survive. I will come back to be with her. Or at least, I must tell myself that. I have learned enough to know that to give up hope is to have none. I must believe that there can be hope. That there is hope.

Because there always is hope. Sometimes you just have to search for it.

I know this better than anyone probably. I remember that day like it was yesterday, when they flooded the arena. When Annie was the only tribute left who really knew how to swim. When she was crowned the victor.

I was her mentor, but they didn't let me see her until the day we were to board the train back to district four. A day much like today. Of course, I felt from her interviews that something was wrong, but I couldn't pinpoint it. When I got her back she was only a shadow of her former self, and it seemed that there was nothing that I could do to bring her back to me.

I thought I had no hope.

She didn't seem to know who I was. Or she was afraid of me. Afraid of everyone, and everything. Any noise, anything out of place. Even regular activity. She would put her hands over her ears, grimace. But she wouldn't let anyone help her, and trying just made it worse. She didn't speak. Didn't even acknowledge anyone's presence.

I almost gave up on her. I came so close. I still can't believe that I ever considered it, but it had been almost three months. I had barely known her that long as her normal self. The one day, I took her to the cave where we had first met. I packed a picnic, complete with a thermos of tea and a bag of sugar cubes. When I handed her one, she looked at me. Really looked at me, for the first time in months. And spoke.

"Finnick?"

I dropped the sugar cube that was still halfway between us, and swerved to face her, grabbing her hand, still outstretched.

"Yes, Annie. Yes."

"I've had some terrible dreams..." she told me. And that was what she thought at first, or at least had tried to convince herself of. That it was all a dream. Over time she came to understand and maybe even come partially to terms with it. No, that isn't the correct term for her. She has never been the same, but she has gotten so much better. Especially recently. I have seen a joy in her eyes that was missing for years, and I have almost forgotten that we were ever victors of the games, her and I.

Not victors. Of course not. Just participants.

That is why the knowledge of what next year will entail breaks my heart. Not even because I know it may mean my death. Not because I know that the only chance we may ever have at rebellion lies in the balance. But because I know what it will do to Annie. Knowing that I have to go back in will break her again. She will return to what she was, after the games. And if she finds out the truth. The rebellion, Snow's plot against me. She will never forgive me for keeping it from her. Or, at least, it will be difficult. We will never be the same again.

And there it is. The stakes are high. If I tell her the truth, it must be all or nothing. And I risk losing the precious time we have left. I risk her descending into a state of madne-no, that is the Capitol's word for her. But she is not mad. She is, perhaps, unstable, but even that is a stretch for who she is right now. But it defines the person she may become if she knows the truth. And I desperately want to leave this world, if that is what it takes, knowing that our last days together were spent in peace, joy, and love. Together, in body and mind.

Anything else in unthinkable.

But I wonder if the other option, keeping everything from her, is any better. It allows me to die in peace, but it leaves her to live believing that everything she knew was a lie. Encased in black, in mourning, in sorrow, i deception. And I can't allow that.

I close my eyes. This is to much to ponder when our relationship is unstable enough as it is. We love each other. I don't doubt that. We won't break apart, but I can't stand to have her mad at me.

I decide to work on fixing what I have broken this time, however unfair the accusations may be. Another day, another week, even another month...I don't think it is unfair of me to keep it from her for that long. After that, I don't know. But I will make my decision later. Not now.

Now I will enjoy the time I have left. Even if it means pretending to be sorry, and saying I am wrong for the sake of peace. Even if it must mean weaving a net of deception for the sake of love, just for the moment.

After all, I am very good at weaving nets.